


Agatha Heterodyne and the Bedroom Routine

by HSavinien



Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Foreplay, Multi, OT3, Post-Canon, Squabbling, everything is Mad Science and nothing hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28415640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HSavinien/pseuds/HSavinien
Summary: Agatha likes her bed, which is big enough for three. Agatha does not like masculine pissing contests.
Relationships: Agatha Heterodyne/Tarvek Sturmvoraus/Gilgamesh "Gil" Wulfenbach
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	Agatha Heterodyne and the Bedroom Routine

Agatha had never enjoyed the original decor of her bedroom. Skulls had predominated before she told the Castle to pitch everything into a museum wing for safekeeping if it wouldn’t bin the furniture and it was taking a while to find things that were more to her taste - more brass and gear diagrams, less blood-red and bones. She had a bedside workbench for late-night inspiration, two bookshelves and a tool chest that fit neatly beside the workbench, and a squashy rug to protect her feet from the stone floor. The bed, though... She’d had the bedposts replaced, but kept the bed. It was comfortable, the perfect height from the ground, and it was generously sized to fit three human adults with nobody risking falling off the edge when things got athletic. (Also the bed-curtains were bulletproof. Safety first.)

"Automated grape peeler, Agatha? I've upgraded it to remove seeds as well, with only minimal disruption of the fruit- though, hah, as an interesting point, Snoffrisk categorizes the grape as a ruminant, rather than a fruit." Gil offered the handle of a spring-and-cogwheel contraption that emptied into a small brass bowl. She turned it experimentally and a fleshy green ovoid dropped into the bowl with a little wet squelch.

"You would cite Snoffrisk. The man was a kook. Perfectly decent at internal combustion, absolute rubbish at taxonomy. I despair that I share a library with you." Tarvek sat back on his heels and stared at Gil disdainfully.

Gil sighed. "You share a  _ bed _ with me, you tit. It was just a funny anecdote, I don't  _ agree _ with him."

Agatha popped the grape into her mouth and set the grape peeler on the bedside workbench. “Thanks, Gil. I wonder what he thought a ruminant was, exactly... Tarvek, you were saying something about weaponized patterns from the French lace-makers.”

Tarvek sighed long-sufferingly and returned to the sketches he was working on between her legs. Agatha twitched as his notebook tickled the inside of her knee. “Right, yes, most of las dentellières are based in Paris, obviously, but there’s a young Spark named Hallette off in Caudry who’s coming out with some really fascinating work in the realm of reality-warping and tying it into textile work. Of course, there are downsides to having the ability to twist the fabric of the universe if one accidentally puts a hole in one’s lingerie, but the potential for power is really quite thrilling.”

“Please don’t buy Agatha a pair of stockings that can rip a hole in the universe,” Gil said, flopping down next to her to peer at his sketches. “Please do not  _ make _ Agatha any underthings that can rip a hole in the universe,” he added. “Hold on, you’ve got her hair wrong, give me the eraser.” 

Gil grabbed for the pencil, and Tarvek made an affronted noise and pushed him back. “It’s a  _ costume  _ sketch, not a portrait! I’ll fix it, if it offends you that much, but you do not get to touch my notebook, you hellion.” They fell into a scuffle, barely managing not to catch Agatha in the process.

"Gentlemen," Agatha said. They froze. There were Undertones. She stuck her screwdriver (T2, brass and steel) behind her ear, tipped the latest dingbot (who’d been having its springs adjusted) onto the workbench, and looked at them with her arms crossed. "You can either relocate your squabble to  _ anywhere else _ besides  _ my bed _ or you can  _ behave." _ Tarvek carefully released Gil's wrist. Gil stopped attempting to bite his arm. 

"Apologies, Agatha," Tarvek murmured, doing an impressive job at a bow considering he was sprawled on his side on a bed. 

"I'm sorry," Gil said. "And to you as well," he added to Tarvek. "I shouldn't have touched your things without permission."

Tarvek coughed something that could have been "kiss-up", but nodded graciously. "I was deliberately provoking earlier. I'll try to be less so." 

"That's reasonable," Gil said grudgingly. "It would be a lot to ask for you to stop altogether."

Tarvek tipped over onto his back and chuckled. "It really would, you know. Early training." 

Agatha relaxed. "Bedtime would be much more restful if you two didn't end up fighting so often."

"Less exciting, though," Gil said, pressing a kiss to the outside of her knee. "It's basically foreplay at this point."

Tarvek covered his face with his hands. "He's right, unfortunately."

She patted his hair. "I promise I won't think badly of either of you if you ever manage to kiss without shouting at each other first."

"It's practically a tradition though," Gil pointed out cheerfully. "You know how Tarvek enjoys traditions."

Tarvek socked him in the shoulder without looking. Gil caught the hand and nipped his fingertips. Tarvek made an unwarranted shocked noise, considering he'd put his hand in range in the first place and experimental methodology had pretty clearly demonstrated that Gil  _ would  _ put his mouth on whatever bits of them he could reach at the first sign of anything romantic happening. 

Agatha couldn’t decide between sighing and laughing at them, and split the difference by pinching Gil’s bottom. He squawked and Tarvek grinned up at her, quick and sharp as a fox. Tarvek rolled over, neatly avoiding squashing her knee, and caught Gil by the face to give him a proper kiss. Gil tugged Tarvek’s hair loose from its tie and buried his fingers in it, in a way that wouldn’t pull as much as Tarvek preferred, but would still make him squirm.

She caught Tarvek’s glasses before they slid off his nose and put them - and her own - on the workbench for safekeeping. Agatha turned back just in time for Gil to catch her hand, pulling her over into a pile with the two of them.

“My lady,” Tarvek said breathlessly, and looked up at her through his lashes. She kissed him until they were both panting and Gil was breathing nearly as hard, then turned to catch Gil’s mouth in hers. His eyes shut and he leaned into her hand, barely twitching when Tarvek started undoing his shirt, showing the shadowed curve of his pectoral in the lamplight.

This was one of the better parts of their collective diplomatic efforts. Agatha shivered as two sets of fingers traced up her vertebrae, and leaned back in to encourage them. 


End file.
